


Nothing Good in Goodbye

by lazarus_girl



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 22:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarus_girl/pseuds/lazarus_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Naomi’s death, Emily struggles to cope without her. Plagued by unanswered questions and wracked with guilt, she can’t see a way forward. With the support of her family, she tries to learn how to live again, day-by-day, step-by-step, and moment-by-moment, determined for her loss not to be in vain.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>“The second her pain ended, yours truly began.”</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Good in Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Canon compliant, but with the addition of my own headcanon here and there. Follows events after _Skins Fire_. Companion of sorts to [this](http://8tracks.com/lazarusgirl/in-this-fading-light) mix. 
> 
> For reasons that will become obvious, this is most likely the last _Skins_ fic I’ll write. Through the show and the fandom, I’ve met some amazing people, and I’ll always be grateful. Naomi and Emily (and Lily and Kat) will always have a very special spot in my heart and so will all of you. Thank you for every bit of love and support I've received while writing this pairing, it's been one hell of a journey.
> 
> Incredibly hard to write, and completely unplanned after other attempts didn’t work out, this was written over the course of seven or so hours, souundtracked by two songs, it appeared on the page like some kind of emotional exorcism. I think I ran the gamut of the grief cycle a couple of times. As a result, I know this won’t be easy to read, but working on it has provided me with closure on the _Skins_ experience in a way I never expected. If you do take the time, then I hope it brings you some comfort. It’s not perfect and it’s definitely not a fix-it fic, but it _is_ written with love.
> 
> For the lovely [exist2believe](http://exist2believe.tumblr.com), who's been such a part of this writing experience, from the days immediately after Fire aired – when we were all trying to process everything and make sense of it – to just a few days ago, when the discussions were still difficult, but we both had a clearer sense of what might’ve happened after the credits rolled. I hope I made the right choices. I hope I’ve done our girls justice, and righted a couple of wrongs along the way to give their story the spotlight it deserved. 
> 
> Last but by no means least, thank you to my creative partner in crime, and beta extraordinaire, [cargoes](http://cargoes.tumblr.com), who had the unenviable task of reading this first and helping me through the editing process. Go and show her some love, she’s fabulous.

***

 _Your absence has gone through me_  
_Like thread through a needle._  
_Everything I do is stitched with its colour._  
– W.S. Merwin, ‘Separation.’

***

No one told you what to do now. She’s gone. Even the word sounds empty. She’s been your every waking thought from the moment you touched down in London again on a bitterly cold night just before Christmas, fresh off the red eye and still reeling from Effy’s phone call; to the moment she died in a too big bed inside a too quiet, sterile hospital room, days shy of her twenty-third birthday, miles from the place you know she so desperately wanted to be.

_“You need to come home.”_

_“Naomi’s ill. Really ill.”_

_“You need to come home now.”_

On a whim, you bought Naomi a snow globe of the New York skyline from a gift shop inside the airport. A silly, cheap thing, made for tourists, but you didn’t care, you had to buy it, so a tiny piece of New York came back with you and it felt a little closer than before. She’d been saving up the little money she had to come and visit. The idea of it kept you both going when the pull of distance between you was too hard to endure. Even then, as the cashier bagged it, all smiles, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Naomi would never see New York or that the snow globe would be the last gift you’d ever give her.

You were right. You don’t want to be.

That phone call is the last thing you remember with anything like clarity. Even now, you don’t think you fully grasped what she said, not even when you were standing in front of Naomi’s hospital room peering at her through the glass, not believing what you were seeing on the other side; struggling to and make sense of the girl you were looking at, and how she didn’t match up with the image of her you carry in your mind. Everything else has been some kind of long, horrendously vivid nightmare, but it’s not the kind of nightmare that’s fuzzy and confusing; it’s the kind you can remember every single detail of. There are things you wish you could forget: like watching Naomi grow thin and weak; her struggle to breathe; her face etched with pain there aren’t enough drugs to dull; the sight of the too-small-to-be-real urn held between Gina’s hands, knowing her ashes were inside. Those things threaten to eat away at the memories you want to keep hold of: her smile; her laugh; her voice; her arms around you; the warmth of her skin; her kisses. Everything.

***

Any second, you think you’re going to wake up, and you’ll be back in the apartment in Williamsburg, stirred to wakefulness by the sound of sirens, traffic, your roommate Thalia, making coffee and talking to her boyfriend, Alex. You’ll turn to see Naomi lying next to you, finally having scraped enough money together to visit. You’ll kiss her awake, and she’ll pull you into her arms and wrap you up while you talk about nothing and try to put off going to work for as long as possible, or until Thalia bursts in and makes you leave so you don’t miss the train. Even then, you only just make it into the Nylon offices before your boss, Katrin.

No matter how many times you wish, it never comes true.

For a few blissful seconds, you forget, and your brain tricks you into thinking that Naomi’s in the bathroom, on the phone to Gina, smoking on the roof, or gone out to get milk because you’ve run out. Then you remember, and you have to lose her all over again.

You thought you missed her before, felt pain before, that you’d hurt before, but even in the Sophia mess, and everything that came after, that was just a test run; a pale imitation. There aren’t words for how deep it runs. There aren’t words to describe how bad it feels. There have been times when thought you’d never stop crying. A weight, that’s the closest thing to it – enduring the loss of her is like carrying extra weight on every single bone in your body, and there’s no let up, no respite. No matter how you try to rearrange yourself it hurts just the same, and maybe more for the trying. Now you’re without her – truly, and completely, all without your consent. So many choices were taken away from you, and you lost so much precious time with Naomi that you’re still desperate to claw back.

It still hasn’t sunk in, and you don’t think it ever will.

Deep down, you know that Naomi only did it because she loved you and wanted to protect you, and that Effy only did it because she was trying her best to be a good friend and deal with something no one can ever possibly be prepared for, but you’re still so angry and so frustrated about how it all played out. Then you feel guilty, because how can you possibly be angry with either of them? Naomi was dying for God’s sake, alone for the most part, terrified, but still trying to be as brave as you once asked her to be.

You wish she’d never listened. You she’d been less stubborn. You wish she was weaker. You wish she’d folded and made you come back when she first got her diagnosis. You wish the treatments had worked. You wish she would come back to you, just once, so you can hold her and kiss her again, tell her how much you love her and say a proper goodbye. You wish for a lot of impossible things. Most of all, you wish you’d never gone to New York, because it left you the furthest you’ve ever been from her when she needed you the most. That guilt, at least, is justified. Naomi encouraged you, bolstered your confidence, and now you wish you’d resisted her that little bit more. It was only a year. In the grand scheme, a year is nothing, but now it seems like a lifetime. Your perspective shifts when days aren’t counted in hours, but in kisses, sips of water, rounds of medication, the space between one breath and the next.

Each one was a tiny victory. Each one made your heart hurt a little more. She fought hard, and survived longer than the doctors expected her to. The only thing you wanted to do was take her pain away – you would’ve helped her if she’d asked you to – and the fact you couldn’t, powerless to make her feel any better or worse, left you feeling useless instead. Everyone – your mum, your dad, Katie, James, Dr Andrews – said the only thing that mattered was you were there for her. That your presence would comfort her, and just hearing your voice would be enough. You hope it was. In the worst of it, when she was too tired to even open her eyes, and every little thing was an effort, you took to reading to her from her favourite novels instead of talking to her, knowing she was drifting in and out of consciousness as you turned the pages.

You believed for her. You hoped for her, even when you knew the odds were stacked against her, because everyone else had given up. They’d begun to back away, to let go. All you did was hold her tighter, trying to comfort her when she was afraid; calm her down when she got angry and frustrated; when she felt like her body was betraying her, and she felt useless and ugly. It made you pray to a god you weren’t even sure you believed in. You understood why they left, of course. It hurt. You’re young (you’re young still, even if you don’t feel it) and no one expects this to happen.

Twenty-two is no age to die. The cruel absurdity of it was hammered home whenever your friends came to visit, unsure how to behave, unused to hospitals, utterly unprepared for an illness like cancer. Until this, the most you’d seen Naomi through was a bout of Fresher’s Flu or the odd bad hangover. You learned quickly. It was always hard, but somehow, you felt it more when JJ and Lara, Thomas, Pandora or Karen came to visit. You searched all over for Cook, phoned everyone you could think of, because it got to the point where Naomi needed to see him. There were things she wanted to say, but you never found him. Perhaps it’s best he doesn’t know. You don’t like to think of the other reasons why he might’ve disappeared.

You’ve all lost so much, and now you truly understand how difficult it was for Effy to find her way and put herself back together after Freddie died. You’re in that wilderness now, floundering, just like she was, and the only person you want to talk to about it, you can’t, she’s not here. That’s the trouble, you see, she was your everything; girlfriend and best friend in one, so you’ve lost two people in one go.

Effy’s visiting order has been on your beside table, unanswered for months. You can’t bring yourself to do anything. It might be a good thing, to visit, you know that you would’ve if Naomi was still here, and you know that Effy would indulge you talking about her and she’ll know what you’re going through, but you just can’t face it. Everyone else seems to think it best if you stop talking about her, pack her away and forget – you’re not going to – that it’s not healthy to carry on as you have been. 

It’s not, you know that, but once you started, you couldn’t stop. Grief grew talons and latched on to you. Parasitic. It would pull you under completely if you let it. You also know that Naomi, if she could speak to you, would be angry and upset. She was always more concerned with how you’d cope with all this, always so scared of hurting you. She’d dealt with the idea of dying long before you could even say the word out loud. Whenever she’d broach the subject, you promised her that you wouldn’t do this, but a part of you knew she’d never go peacefully if she knew the truth, so it was a good lie; a promise you needed to break. You’re well past the point where people tolerate public displays of grief. You’ve had sedatives, anti-depressants, and counselling to help you to cope, but none of it seems to work. You’re trying to hang on, to pull yourself through, to ‘move on,’ like you’re meant to do, but it’s hard. You’re sure your parents and Katie and James will give up on you at some point – there’s a limit to patience – but they’re still holding you together. They always look so concerned, like you’ll shatter into a thousand pieces if anyone mentions her name. They’re trying so hard to help you and you don’t want to appear ungrateful, but the grief makes you lash out and say ridiculous things – most of which you don’t even mean. You just can’t let go of it, you can’t pretend like she didn’t exist. She’s still here, still so much a part of you, even if no one else can see it.

No one told you how to deal with the business of living. No one told you how to silence the voice in your head that screams every day for the world to slow down. You wanted every clock to stop. You wanted to turn off every single feeling, craving numbness. That’s where the hidden pain of loss is. In details, in tiny things that tug and pull, rip and tear at your heartstrings so hard you wonder when your heart will come flying from your throat, kamikaze; left scuttling and deflated, like a fish gasping for air on dry land.

Things aren’t supposed to carry on. Not now. Not ever.

You wonder if this was inevitable that you’d end up as you are. That you’d break so spectacularly. You’ve heard people say as much in hushed whispers along hospital corridors while they clutch charts and cups of tea. Effy told you to be strong, so you were. You rarely left Naomi’s side, lying next to her and holding her in your arms when she was comfortable enough to stand it, and held her hand when she couldn’t. You got by on coffee, canteen sandwiches and broken snatches of sleep whenever your mum, Gina, or the nurses you’d come to know by name – Claire, Justine, and Paula – would force you to take care of yourself. It took its toll, you know. Every day you kissed her good morning and good night. You always made sure the last words she heard were ‘I love you.’

One day, you just knew that she’d had enough, that it was more of a struggle than a fight, and the nurses knew it too. They knew Naomi well enough now. Claire, the nurse who cared for Naomi the longest – her favourite, the one who let you get away with sleeping in the same bed and staying well beyond visiting hours – was with you to explain what was happening and what would happen next and then left you to be together. The end, when it came, was quiet, just you and Naomi, huddled together in her bed. You listened as her breaths got shallower and the space between them longer. You held her and whispered to her, hoping she wasn’t as afraid as you, willing her to let go because you couldn’t stand to see her suffer anymore.

_“It’s alright darlin. Don’t fight it now. Please. Don’t hang on just for me. I’ll be alright. I love you, so very much. I love you. I love you. I love you.”_

The second her pain ended, yours truly began.

The first days and weeks after her death were a complete blur, lost in a cycle of sleep and tears. Through it all, Katie was there, holding you while you cried, soothing you after your nightmares because you couldn’t bear to sleep alone. Sometimes, you think if you’d just keep going somehow, on continuous autopilot, then you wouldn’t be in this mess, but people kept telling you to allow yourself to grieve. As soon as you did, and let yourself stop, the enormity of it came crashing down on you from a great height; crushing and suffocating. In truth, you aren’t sure how you survived to this point. It’s miraculous. Well, it would be if you believed in such things. You don’t, not anymore.

Having time on your hands proved dangerous. While she was here, you never had enough, and now she’s gone, you have too much, and all you can do is think. All you can do is think about her. She’s always been there, somehow or other.

You spent a lifetime watching and waiting. Now you’re contemplating another lifetime without her. The years in between feel like nothing, they flew by all too fast, and some of those years were wasted by stupid arguments and misunderstandings that you’d take back in a heartbeat if you could. If only you’d known at twelve-years-old, watching the back of her head in double maths and willing her to turn around just so you could see her smile, that ten years later, you would’ve loved her – more than you’ve ever loved anyone, more than you’ll ever love anyone – and lost her, then you would’ve been braver. You would’ve ignored Katie; you would’ve swallowed down every ridiculous little fear that kept you from talking to her. You’re trying to pick everything apart; find the loopholes, find where you could’ve said or done something different to change what fate had in store and save her. That idea won’t leave you alone. Those changes stack up quickly; snowballing in your head and keeping you awake at night in an empty bed. Sometimes it’s the small things that niggle at you, like if you’d pressed her about that supposed broken webcam or how tired she sounded, but mostly, it’s the big things you turn over and over in your mind. What if you’d just come home earlier? What if you’d never gone to New York at all? What if you’d stayed out of London for uni because neither of you really felt settled there or called it home.

It’s a futile pursuit that brings you no comfort, but you’re compelled to do it anyway.

No one told you what to do with the remnants of her in your life: emails; voicemails; texts; pictures, videos; scrawled Post-It reminders, lovingly written cards and letters; presents to celebrate every tiny milestone; tickets from trains, buses, planes and concerts. Part of you wants to scoop them all up and set them alight, never to be seen again, because it’s too much. Every scrap sought out on purpose or discovered by accident is like a tiny electric shock. Part of you wants to surround yourself with her, keep everything forever and shut out the rest of the world so nothing will change and you’ll be able to remember every tiny little thing. Every day, you look at her picture; fearful that the details of her will start to fade if you don’t, like the perfume that used to linger on the clothes you’ve allowed yourself to keep. Every night, you sleep wrapped up in her cardigan, not caring that the sleeves are too long and it needs washing, because you’re terrified of what else you’ll lose if you let it out of your sight.

***

It’s been a year without her. Everything’s passed in the blink of an eye and with agonising slowness at the same time.

You’ve struggled through anniversaries, visiting Gina when it was Naomi’s birthday, casting lanterns into the sky with her, Naomi’s Battlefront friends, and the rag-tag remnants of the quasi-community they had in Bristol. It’s comforting to be with her and Kieran, more so than you thought, and it’s nowhere near as awkward or painful as it once was. You talk or email most days. She to indulges you in keeping Naomi’s memory alive, and you planted a tree in for Naomi in the garden of their home in Derry. Naomi would think it ridiculously sentimental, but you did it anyway; it gives you both a focal point, a place to pay your respects, because there’s no grave to visit. You can’t really remember her funeral in any great detail; it’s all a bit of a blank. You take solace in that now, thankful for small mercies. There are plenty of other things left to haunt you.

Gina gave you lots pictures from when Naomi was little, back when they lived in Skye. That’s where you scattered Naomi’s ashes on an uncommonly warm day in May. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. You’ve never seen it bluer. It felt right, because she spoke about those years with such fondness. It was a difficult day, but you felt her presence, stronger than you had in months. You would’ve stayed there forever if you could’ve.

Glasgow is the place you call home now, living in what used to be your grandma’s flat, but it’s just you and mum now. She thought it best, to give you time and space to heal. It’s been such a long journey, and you know it’s one you’ll never truly complete, but leaving London behind was, on reflection, a better idea than you first thought. You’re tentatively building a life now, little by little, filling up your days with a part-time job at a local florist. You’ve come to enjoy making arrangements and learning about all the flowers. It reminds you of when you were a little girl, and used to help your granddad in his garden. The lady who runs it, Linda, is nice. She’s been kind, because she’s friends with your mum, and has tolerated much more from you than she should’ve while you’ve gotten back to something like normal – you’ll never be quite the same. Sometimes, you take pictures that go on the website and in the brochures, you use the camera that Naomi bought you for your twenty-first birthday. Sometimes, you’re sure you can feel her right behind you, watching you line up the shots.

The last step of letting her go in the physical sense happened when you cleared out the flat in London, with the help of Effy’s friend Dominic, the only one of your London group to stick around, and you didn’t even know him as well as Effy and Naomi did. Gina let you keep anything you wanted – it had to be done before you were properly ready, fearful of what would be taken away when they seized Effy’s assets. You would’ve kept the whole room as you’d shared it, but your mum persuaded you just to keep a few things – books, jewellery, music, a few t-shirts and jumpers – and give whatever Gina didn’t want to charity. The box it’s all stored in looks disproportionately small compared to how much she meant to you, and it makes you sad sometimes that your bright, beautiful, brilliant girl is reduced to things that don’t begin show half of what she was. Your dad said it was morbid to keep everything on show, so there’s just one picture of you both together, in a pretty frame that your mum brought. It sits pride of place on your bedside table so it’s the first thing you see. The second is always the snow globe, and you always shake it as a signal to start the day, waiting until the snow has settled again before you move.

Though this has been the darkest time of your life, somehow, it’s brought everyone closer together, and your parents have a better relationship now they’re divorced than when they were married. James talks to you more than he ever did when you were younger, and after Katie, he’s supported you the most through all this. He’s at Saint Martins now, and the painting he did of Naomi from a favourite photograph hangs on your bedroom wall. He misses her more than you realised.

When it was your and Katie’s birthday, you visited her in Marseilles, the first time you’d been on a plane since New York. It was bittersweet, of course, because Naomi should’ve been with you, and you would’ve gone around all the café’s and bookshops, holing yourselves up watching old films, but in the end, you enjoyed it. The family Katie’s working for as an au pair for welcomed you into their home, and you immediately saw she loves it out there so much. She’s settled and content for the first time in her life with her boyfriend Louis – Naomi would’ve loathed him on sight, but he’s not half bad, and he adores Katie – but you know she feels guilty sometimes because you’re still neither settled nor content. She feels so much of your pain, more than she lets on.

She suggested you go and visit Thalia and Alex in New York for Christmas, just to lay some demons to rest. It took her two more weeks, and some extra persuasion from your dad to get you out there, but you’re glad you did. You’re like chalk and cheese, but somehow you find common ground with her, and she’s become a real friend now, so very far from the snobby, shallow Manhattanite you met at the start of your internship. She’s a friend now, a real friend, and she’s the only reason you made it back to London on that red eye at all. She organised the flight, helped you pack and paid for the ticket. She even offered to pay for Naomi to visit once or twice when you first arrived. You wish you’d taken her up on it now. Thalia’s the only other person aside from you that Naomi immediately warmed to. By the time she could make it across to see you both, Naomi was far too ill to take anything in.

***

Today is a difficult day, the first anniversary of her death. You talked to everyone about what you’d do and where you’d go, deciding how to mark it, and in the end, Naomi chose for you. She’s sent you back home, to Bristol. Your dad wanted to drive from Cheshire and meet you, but you insisted you’d come on your own. It has to be between the two of you. The journey was terrible, overnight on the bus, your fitful sleep interrupted by texts from everyone you know.

_Thinking of you honey xx T_

_Text me when you get to Karen’s sweetheart. Stay safe. Mum xx_

_Hope you’re doing OK, sis. Playing some Le Tigre for Naomi while I paint. It’s not half bad! J_

_Louis and I sent some flowers to Karen’s babe, hope they make it on time. So sorry I can’t be there. Love you xx_

_You’ll be in my thoughts today, love. Hope the journey isn’t too tough. Can’t believe how quickly it’s gone. G xxx_

_Alright Emsy? Phone me when you get there. Keep your head up. I’m so proud of you. ‘Walk on’ like I know you can. xxxx Dad_

(Naomi’s number is still in your phone. You can’t bear to delete it even though it doesn’t work anymore. You still expect her to call, even now).

You wanted it to be sunny, just for the memory, because this place never looks the same without it, but it’s not to be. The sky’s dark and threatening rain, but you’re glad you didn’t turn back. It’s overwhelming to be here, looking up all your old haunts, tracking far beyond Karen’s flat in Clifton; the college, the pub, the green, and the playground all get a look in. When you’re on the swing for old time’s sake, you decide to go and visit Freddie’s grave, splitting off some of the bouquet that Louis and Katie sent – a beautiful spray of red roses and orchids – because you know that she’d want you to leave some for him. Without realising it, you come to a stop at Sophia’s grave, before you get to Freddie’s. There are fresh flowers there, so you know that Matt or Sylvia have been. You add one to the arrangement – a single rose – out of respect. You’re not sure if you believe in heaven, but you like to think of him keeping Naomi company. Despite your sadness – the tears have already started – you smile, imagining them smoking a spliff somewhere, like they used to on Brandon Hill.

***

The last stop on your journey has taken the longest to get to, and you’re glad that you borrowed Karen’s bike. You’re too small for it really, and it’s difficult to ride because of it, but you persevere, buffeted by the winds, hood up against the rain, but finally you’ve made it, you’re here. You’re back at the lake. Your little hideaway from your mum and everyone else during that seemingly endless summer when you fell in love with her and got to know who she truly was; when she became your Naomi. You wanted to do this together of course, at some point, for the nostalgia, but life had other plans.

If you’d had your way, you’d still be in Glasgow, buried under the covers sleeping the day away. Yesterday, you didn’t even make it past eight in the morning before your mum came in, sitting on the edge of the bed, hiding something behind her back.

“Naomi said I’d know when to give this to you,” she said, quietly. “I think it’s the right time. I know tomorrow’s going be hard for you, darling. I hope this makes things a little easier.”

Pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, she dropped a letter into your lap. You recognised the envelope and the writing. At the sight of your name, written in her handwriting, you burst into tears, and they didn’t stop once you opened it and read what she had to say.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting here, on the same tartan blanket you brought along all those years ago when you came with Naomi; taking in your surroundings after battling through braches and vegetation, jeans muddy, hair ruined, and about ten minutes from being soaked to the skin, even though the rain let up a while ago. It’s still quiet and peaceful, and you’ve found yourself thinking everything over – everything that’s changed, and everything stubbornly refuses to – wondering if you’ve really made all the progress that Dr Jarrett says you have. You think you have, and you let yourself be proud, just for a moment, hoping that Naomi would feel the same. Things with Dr Jarrett haven’t always been easy, and it’s taken a long time to trust her, because she forces you to talk about things you don’t want to, she makes you reveal secrets you want to keep close to your chest. It’s all part of the process, so they say, but there are some things that she still doesn’t know, special things, about Naomi that are just between the two of you.

There are some things. Little things, but the list is so much shorter than it was.

It’s not as beautiful here as you remember; unkempt and overgrown, but there’s no place you’d rather be, and there’s nowhere you feel closer to Naomi. When the wind picks up again, rustling the leaves on the trees you’re sheltering under, you’re sure you can hear her too. You take her letter out of your coat pocket, carefully pulling it from its envelope and read it again. You know it by heart already, so it doesn’t matter when the words blur because you’re crying.

_Ems, my darlin’ where do I start? Well, I guess you know it’s serious now, I never call you that, babe, yeah, but never darlin’ but you are, you know. I don’t know how to begin to explain all this. I don’t even know if there are the right words. That History and Politics degree turned out massively useful didn’t it?_

_First things first, if you’re reading this, it means two things: 1) Your mum came through for me and did as I asked – shock, horror! – and 2) She had a reason to give you the letter at all, because I’m not there anymore._

_You told me to be brave, and that’s what I tried to be. I tried to beat it, did everything they asked. I wanted to be better when you came back from New York next. I just didn’t want to distract you or make you give up something you’ve worked so hard for. I wanted a lot of things. I wanted to get out of this hellhole. I wanted to get a bloody job so you and Effy didn’t have to pay for everything. I wanted to come and visit you in New York, surprise you, meet the famous Thalia and Alex, because webcams and Skype aren’t anything close to the real thing. I wanted to marry you like I said I would when we were in Goa and replace that ring pull from that knock-off Coke can with something proper. I wanted a life. A good life. A long life. With you._

_Looks like I don’t always get what I want. You were the exception to the rule._

_How could I explain cancer to you? I knew it’d break your heart. How could I tell you I was doing all this treatment and still feeling like complete shit because of all the drugs? The second I did, I knew you’d be on the plane back. Dr Andrews – you’ll know him by now I suppose, pretentious twat – told me today that they’re going to start chemo. I’m going to fight this, Ems, as hard as I can, but I already know the odds aren’t good; his face is enough to tell me that, so I decided to write this to you while I can, because I don’t know if I’ll get the chance after the chemo starts. I should’ve listened to you when you told me to go to the doctors, but you know me, stubborn to a fault._

_Well, I’m paying for it now, aren’t I? We both will. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry._

_In case you don’t already know, you, Emily Jane Fitch, are the love of my life. My everything. My soulmate. I don’t tell you enough, I don’t show you enough. I’m sorry for that too. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. No one’s ever loved me like you do, even when I didn’t deserve it. I fought with the fact I loved you, that I was in love with you for so long, and for someone who is, admittedly, quite clever, I made a lot of mistakes, most of which, somehow, you’ve forgiven me for, but the biggest one was not realising how much easier it would’ve been if I gave into my feelings earlier. I could’ve saved us so much time Ems. I wasted so much time I didn’t know I was going to need. I want it back now. Every time we’ve argued or been apart. There are too many things I want to do, Ems, too many places I want to take you and fill up that passport, but I don’t know if we’re going to be able to now._

_I need time, and there isn’t enough. I want to kiss you enough so you don’t miss it, tell you I love you enough so you never forget it, but that’s impossible._

_Despite everything, I wouldn’t change it, Ems, not one second. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You taught me so much. You made me a better person just by loving me, and I hope you got back some of what you gave to me. I hope I was a good girlfriend to you. I tried to be. I wanted to be. You’ll understand now why I did some of the things I did. I love you too much Emily. With all my heart, and that’s hard sometimes, because I’ve always been afraid that you’d get taken away from me, and I’d never cope._

_I don’t like being right._

_The only thing I want to change, I can’t. I’m so fucking angry, not that I might die, I don’t care about that, I care that I’m going to have to break my promise at some point, and hurt you again, because you will find out about this, Effy’s going to have to break her own promise at some point. She’s looked after me, like she promised; so don’t be angry with her when this all comes out OK? Please? She was only doing what I told her. I hope she’ll look after you and that she’ll be alright, because there’s loads of other stuff going on with work, and I think she’s in over her head, Ems. We both need you to talk some sense into us!_

_I’m scared that I might have to leave you, forever, that’s fucking terrifying, because I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be without you and dealing with your mum, and Katie and James and your dad. You’re all my family now, I love all of you and I never thought they’d accept us. It’s weird. I never thought you and me and Katie would be friends again, I never thought that I’d get to a point where I didn’t want to murder your mum or where James isn’t creepy and annoying, and I have a second proper dad because of how important yours has become to me._

_It feels like we’re just getting started, that things were finally starting to go right for us, and now this. I always thought I’d be alone, I was used to it until you came along and wore me down! I know that’s stupid because once you’re dead, that’s it, and it’s everyone else that has to deal with it, and that’s what I don’t like. I don’t want you to be on your own, and lonely and miserable._

_I don’t want to leave you Ems. I really don’t, but there are things I need to tell you about what I want if I do._

_If this cancer gets me, and it might – if Dr Doom is right – I don’t want you to stop living, Emily. I want you to carry on. Live your life. Really live. I know none of this is what we planned, but please try? Don’t give up, don’t let losing me define you. Your life doesn’t have to stop. That means two people die and I can’t stand that, Emily. I just can’t. Do it for both of us. I know it’s going to be hard, harder than anything and you’ll feel like you can’t do it, but you can, you’re so strong. You’re the brave one, you always have been. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me, please? Go back to New York the first chance you get and take everything they throw at you if that’s where you want to be. Don’t stay in London if you can’t. Effy’s a big girl, she’ll be alright, so will everyone else. Look after yourself first. Be selfish for once in your life._

_If you’re not sure where to go, take my map, follow the routes we planned in my journal, take tons of pictures, spam everyone’s Facebook feed and make them jealous. Send them to magazines and make them even more envious. No one sees the world like you. Use the money I’m saving right now for New York and go wherever you want. Go where you’re happiest. Sell all my crap if you need to, even my Macbook, I don’t care. There’s a half-written novel on it that’s terrible. It’s mostly about you, which isn’t why it’s terrible; it’s terrible because I wrote it while you were away and I was by myself in the flat, so it’s page after page of angst. There’s a really cute girl in it though, named Alice, she looks a lot like you. I’m not sure what the ending is meant to be. Maybe that’s up to you now. Write the ending you deserve, Ems._

_There’s still so much I want to say, but I don’t know how._

_I want so much for you, but most of all; I want you to be happy. Really happy, like we have been together, not pretend happy to please other people. I know what you’re like, you’ll keep going, being strong and not let people in because I’ve rubbed off on you. Don’t suffer alone, talk to someone. Talk to Katie, your dad, your mum, my mum, anyone. Please? Don’t remember me in a hospital bed, bald and sick and ugly and horrible; remember the good. Remember Goa and the beaches and the sunsets. Remember Mexico and the parties. Remember Australia and that backpackers hostel. Remember all the times we got lost and laughed about it because it turned out better than we ever thought. Remember to smile. Remember not to blame yourself. Remember that feeling guilty is a fucking waste of emotion._

_Grieve for me, cry when you need to, but don’t waste your life because of it. Take it one day at a time, one hour at a time, one step at a time if you need to. One of those days, it’ll hurt less for you than it did, and that’s alright. One day, you’ll meet someone, and they’ll make you feel like I did. That’s alright too, because you deserve to love again, Ems. Someone deserves to be loved by you. It’d be the biggest tragedy of all to lock yourself away, and never let anyone see how beautiful you are. Don’t waste away because you’re afraid of being hurt or because you think it’s betraying me or being unfaithful. It will never replace or diminish what we had, it’s just different._

_I don’t believe in God, Ems, you know that, but I do believe that there’s something else, and I’ll see you there someday. It might take a really long time, but we’ll be together again. It’ll be worth the wait._

_Whatever happens from now on, remember, I’ll always love you, and I’ll always be with you. This isn’t goodbye, darlin’, it’s ‘see you soon,’ instead._

_Naomi xxxx_

***

‘Go where you’re happiest,’ she said.

It took you far too long to realise that place was Bristol. It holds more happy memories for you than unhappy ones. It’s where you spent most of your life. It’s where you fell in love. It’s where you fell out of love and back in it again. It’s where you’ll always think of when anyone asks about home.

You release a long breath, folding the letter carefully and putting it away in your pocket again for safekeeping. She’s right, even though it hurts; you know she’s right. You’ve been existing, not living and it’s time to really try and start again. You’ll never get used to be being without her, you’ll never be as comfortable in this world, in this body or in this skin than you are when you’re with her. It’ll always feel like something is missing, but now you know that, and you’re learning to deal with it, little by little. Around your neck on a chain is Naomi’s ring – the thin gold band she always wore – and you touch it now, closing your eyes, breathing deeply as you turn it through your fingers. It’s your touchstone, your talisman, and every time you feel it on your skin, it’s like she’s still with you.

Cautiously, you crawl to the water’s edge, and lean over to stare at your reflection, still so unsure of the girl that looks back. For the longest time, you contemplated coming here, wading in and never stopping until the water came in over your head. You wanted so much to be with her that you would’ve ended it all, but now, seeing Naomi’s letter, hearing her voice in your mind as you read it back, you know that would’ve been the last thing she or anyone else you love would want. Giving up is easy; it’s the keeping going that’s hard. You don’t jump into the water; instead, you reach for Katie’s flowers, and lay them on the surface of with your own bouquet: pink roses arranged with alstroemeria, carnations, white gladioli and Oriental lilies (Naomi’s favourite). You made it especially with Linda’s help at the shop. As they slowly float away, like one of those little Viking funeral boats, you feel the weight you’ve been carrying start to lift, and you smile; struck by how beautiful it looks. The contrast of colours, red and pinks pop out bright against the water.

“I’m still here, babe,” you call up to the sky, watching for any kind of sign, “I made it,” you continue, sniffing back tears. “I’ll never forget you. This place will always be ours, and you’ll always have my heart … I love you,” you finish, blowing a kiss to her. Before breaking down completely.

You let your tears flow freely for a moment before you turn back to the flowers watching them float farther and farther from your reach, carried away by the current. Gulping down air, you force yourself to stop crying, staring down at your shoes and stuffing your hands into your pockets to ward off the cold. The breeze picks up again, louder than it’s been all day. The rustling of the leaves sounds different to before, and you suddenly notice that your shadow is darker than it was. When you look up, you see there’s a break in the cloud, and the sun is starting to shine weakly through it. You smile, and then you laugh, big and loud for the first time in a long time as it gets brighter and brighter.

She’s here.

She’s _here_.

When you close your eyes, head pointed toward the rays, soaking them up, you’re sure you feel her arms around you and her lips pressing a kiss to your cheek. It’s not the breeze or your mind playing tricks. It’s the all the sign you need.

***

No one told you what to do now. There’s no manual, no checklist that says you’re doing the right thing, but you’re trying. You’ve made it this far, and that’s something to celebrate. You’re going to do what feels right to you. You’re going to do what you think Naomi would want you to. Now, you know exactly what to do. There’s no manual, but you do have a map, and you can tick off the places you and Naomi wanted to visit. When that list has dwindled, you’ll go back to New York, to Thalia and Alex, and you’ll set the snow globe down on the windowsill of your bedroom, shake it, and turn it out to face the city. Naomi will get to see it, just like you always planned.

Naomi’s given you one last gift, and you don’t intend on wasting it. She’s given you peace. She’s given you freedom. She’s reminded you that love doesn’t end when the person you love isn’t here anymore. You won’t erase her from your life; you’ll celebrate the fact she was in your life instead. You don’t have to let her go to keep on living; you just have to learn how to go on living without her.

Now, for the first time, you know exactly what to do.


End file.
